Elisha Plasket
10 Published Stories
Elisha Plasket's Books and Stories
Too Late: The Don's Regretful Pursuit
Mafia I sat at the head of the mahogany table, the heavy heirloom emeralds around my neck marking me as the future Queen of the Cosa Nostra.
But the man beside me—Jax Viles, the most feared Don in New York—had his hand resting possessively on the thigh of the woman sitting to his right.
She wasn't his fiancée. I was.
The humiliation didn't stop at dinner. Jax moved her into my home, turned my dance studio into her closet, and when she pushed me down a flight of stairs, he stepped over my broken body to comfort her because she was "shaken up."
He started a bloody gang war just to defend her honor, yet ignored my desperate calls warning him of an ambush.
To him, I wasn't a partner. I was furniture—a fixture that was expected to be silent and useful. He would burn the world to ash for her, but for me, he wouldn't even skip a meeting.
So, while he was out celebrating his victory for her, I didn't wait for him to come home.
I left the engagement ring in the trash can next to the toilet.
On his desk, I left a single note: "I release you from the oath. I hope she's worth the war."
By the time he realized his mistake and came looking for his shadow, I was already gone, ready to become the Queen of my own life. Sunlight and Solace
Romance One month before my wedding, a text from an unknown number shattered my perfect world.
It was a photo: Chloe' s hand, unmistakably, holding a positive pregnancy test, with a single, chilling line of text: "Congrats on being a dad. Or, stepdad, I guess. - Jake."
My fiancée, Chloe, didn't deny it. She laughed, casually admitting she only agreed to marry me to make her ex-boyfriend, Jake, jealous. Every memory, every tender moment, twisted into a cruel performance.
I stood there, surrounded by wedding invitations, realization dawning: I wasn' t a partner; I was a prop in her twisted game, about to become a convenient father for another man' s child. The woman I adored had meticulously built our future on a foundation of calculated lies.
The betrayal was total, tearing through my very core. How could I have been so blind, so foolishly tethered to a ghost? The humiliation burned.
I tore the wedding invitation in half and told her I was done, disappearing from her life. I packed my bags, leaving the broken pieces of my past behind, and headed to the farthest, coldest corner of the Earth: the Arctic, determined to freeze her out of my soul and rebuild a life she could never touch. A Second Chance At Tragedy
Modern It began innocently enough.
My high school roommate, Jessica, needed a place to stay during a break, just as my older brother, David, was prepping for his SATs, his ticket to an Ivy League dream.
My trusting parents welcomed her into our home.
Then, the nightmare struck.
A scream in the night.
Jessica, teary-eyed, accused David of something unspeakable-a monstrous, venomous lie.
That lie didn' t just stick; it decimated us.
David's scores plunged, his dreams shattered, expelled from school.
He found a dead-end job, then an accident claimed his life.
Our parents, heartbroken, soon followed.
And Jessica? She remained, a parasite feeding on our grief, playing the survivor while I simmered with impotent rage until everything ended in fire.
The memory was a raw, bleeding wound-the profound injustice, the agony of watching my family crumble from a fabrication.
Why did it have to end like that?
Why couldn't I have seen through her sweet facade sooner?
But then, I gasped awake, sunlight streaming through my familiar window.
The calendar showed the exact date.
Downstairs, I heard her voice: Jessica' s.
I was back.
This wasn't a dream.
This was a second chance, a fierce, burning clarity-a chance to save David, my parents, and myself, and to dismantle Jessica' s wicked game, piece by deceitful piece. Marrying My Childhood Sweetheart
Modern Richard is only a year older than me, but he has always used his status as my older brother to pressure me.
When we were kids, he would scold me for skipping class, and as we grew up, he would still interfere in my love life.
My friends joked, "Your brother can't possibly like you, right? You two aren't even real siblings."
Since then, I deliberately distanced myself from him, but during the New Year, he suddenly brought home a girl.
"Tricia, call her sister-in-law."
That night, I locked myself in my room and cried uncontrollably.
He pulled me out from under the covers and gently wiped away my tears.
"You're allowed to make me mad by dating a boyfriend, but I can't be upset with you?" He Killed Our Pup: The Alpha's Ultimate Regret
Werewolf My husband locked me in a glass cage in the center of the ballroom, announcing to the elite of the pack that my father was dead.
While his assistant, Debra, draped herself over him, Austen turned the thermostat down until industrial coolant pumped into my prison.
I was eight months pregnant with his heir, begging for mercy, but he only raised a champagne glass to his new "Nolan Pack."
To prove my submission, he ordered warriors to douse me in ice water laced with silver and wolfsbane.
The chemicals burned my skin, but the cold killed my unborn son.
As I lay in a pool of frozen red blood, watching the life fade from my womb, Austen finally panicked—not for me, but for his reputation.
My father, the Supreme Alpha, wasn't dead. He tore the doors off their hinges to save me, but it was too late for the baby.
Waking up in the hospital, empty and broken, I listened to Austen beg not for forgiveness, but for a cover-up to save the stock price.
"We can just make another one," he said, dismissing my dead son like a broken toy.
That was the moment the weak, loving wife died.
I stood up, my eyes glowing with the ancient silver light of the White Wolf.
I didn't just divorce him. I used the Alpha Voice to sever our bond, stripping him of his rank, his sanity, and his name.
Now, I am the Queen of the Winter Moon Pack. The Betrayed Rose Rises Anew
Mafia He called me his wild rose, the foster kid he rescued from the streets. He built me a gilded cage and told me it was love.
Then I saw the text: my best friend, Karis, showing off the engagement ring he' d just given her.
I rushed to his office, only to overhear the truth. I was just a "placeholder," a "stray he picked up," a useful toy to keep his family happy while he planned his real future with her.
He laughed about how easily he could control me.
"A little gaslighting, a few well-placed gifts, and she'll be back where she belongs. Under my thumb."
His final act of love? Drugging me and handing me over to a monster, sacrificing me as a "body double" to protect his precious Karis.
He thought I was just a broken foster kid with nowhere to go. He thought he could erase me.
He was wrong. As the private jet he put me on exploded over the ocean, I was already gone-saved by the powerful family I never knew I had. Now, I'm coming back, and they will pay for every single lie. Kissed By My Brother
Young Adult He always called me his little bird.
For six years, since my parents died in that tragic fire, my uncle Michael Davies was my world.
He promised to protect me, to give me a gilded cage where I could feel safe.
But on the eve of my 18th birthday, that gilded cage became a prison.
I overheard him in his study, a phone call that shattered my entire existence.
He was talking to Emily White, his ex-fiancée, the woman he truly loved.
And in that chilling conversation, I learned the truth.
My "savior" had orchestrated a monstrous plan: he was going to auction me off at my own birthday party.
And Emily, the woman he swore he loved, revealed she was the one who set the fire that killed my parents.
My uncle knew.
He' d known all along.
Every sweet word, every gentle touch, every act of supposed kindness was a lie designed to keep me a pawn in his twisted game of revenge.
I was just a substitute, a cheap copy of the woman he truly desired.
The pain was unbearable, a betrayal so profound it left me gasping for air.
But the girl who loved Michael Davies died in that hallway.
A new Sarah was born, cold, hard, and desperate to escape.
I would not be his victim.
I would not be their entertainment.
I would survive this.
My only escape was a desperate plea to his grandfather: arranging a marriage to a comatose man, miles away.
It felt like a desolate choice, a sacrifice for freedom.
But it was my only hope.
I had to get out. The Forensic Bride
Horror Havenwood, Maine, was a town owned by the Thorne family, but their ancient mansion held an even darker grip through a chilling tradition.
Each new Thorne bride spent her wedding night alone in the windowless Founder's Study, a tradition that consistently ended in death, just like my sister Sarah's eight years ago.
Police ruled Sarah's brutal throat-slitting a "suicide," a convenient lie swiftly followed by seven more inexplicable deaths of Julian Thorne's brides in the very same room.
No one believed Sarah could do that, nor could the champion swimmer who supposedly drowned herself in a tiny basin, yet my father succumbed to the narrative, claiming we couldn't fight the powerful Thornes.
But I refused to let it go, spending eight years mastering forensic psychology, and now I'm back in Havenwood, declaring to a stunned town and a resigned Julian: "I will be his ninth bride." The Husband's Verdict
Modern I sacrificed everything for her.
My top-tier university scholarship, my architectural dreams, all to work for her father' s firm, playing the perfect, accommodating husband to Chloe for five long years.
One Tuesday, curiosity led my hand to unlock an ornate wooden box on her vanity, a box she claimed held precious family heirlooms.
Inside, there was no jewelry.
Only a discreet urn and two receipts: one for a D&C procedure, the other for cremation. My blood ran cold when I saw the 'father' s name' wasn't mine.
It was Leo, the musician she' d painted as a crazed stalker, the man I' d served a restraining order to protect her from.
That restraining order, my very act of protection, wasn't a deterrent to their affair; it was the ultimate foreplay, according to a recording I later heard. Her family dismissed my pain, my father-in-law openly favored Leo, even hiring him to work alongside me.
But the true breaking point came when Chloe watched, impassively, as I thrashed in a cold lake, struggling to breathe after she pushed me in. She walked away, leaving me to drown.
The love I had for her didn't just die; it was extinguished, replaced by a chilling void. It wasn't about anger or sadness anymore, but an utter sense of betrayal that twisted my entire reality.
And that's when the plan began to form. A cold, precise design to give them the "legacy" they truly deserved, on the biggest stage of all: the dedication ceremony of the skyscraper I designed. The Madwoman's Master Plan
Modern The bright town fair turned dark when my ten-year-old daughter Lily, clutching her voice recorder, was tormented by Brandon, my ex-husband' s girlfriend' s son. When he shoved her, my defensive slap echoed, breaking my world.
That protective act was instantly weaponized by Mark' s manipulative partner, Victoria. Convinced I was "unhinged," my ex-husband Mark swiftly sent us to "Tranquil Pathways Youth Academy" -a grim place, more prison than therapy.
Inside, I was systematically drugged, shamed, and isolated. They promised Lily' s well-being hinged on my "compliance" while she vanished into a "specialized unit." To Mark, I was painted as psychotic, my desperate pleas dismissed, yet my mother's intuition screamed betrayal.
The injustice and helplessness maddened me. My ex-husband had abandoned us, believing their lies. Lily was gone, somewhere in those cold walls, and I was being stripped of my mind, consumed by fear for her.
Months later, Mark arrived, finally doubting. Through my drugged stupor, chilling clarity led him to a hidden floorboard in my desolate room. There, beside Lily' s lifeless body, was her cherished recorder-holding the undeniable truth, and igniting a cold, unyielding vengeance within me. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil
Gale Kaaya My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement.
To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia.
It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping.
But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished.
She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug.
She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago.
The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash.
Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name.
She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant.
I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead.
I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye.
"Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you."
Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth.
"Prove it," he growled.
I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip. To Ruin Him, I Married His Rival
Rabbit Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts.
The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage.
I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter.
But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous.
Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared.
He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground.
With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes.
"Take me with you." His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple
Hu Minxue Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate.
I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo.
The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives.
My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked.
To her, I was finally being disposed of.
She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left.
She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex.
"She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds.
They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter.
They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back.
But they made a fatal mistake.
With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon.
I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him.
And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner.
He will be my vengeance. Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss
Jia Zhong My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent.
But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress.
Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you."
To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife.
When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala.
He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent.
He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters.
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage.
But he made a fatal error.
He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign.
They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me.
And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck.
I didn't jump to die.
I jumped to be reborn.
And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin. 
/1/102846/coverorgin.jpg?v=5cd188e11a6cde96ce58df1be4ee7421&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84575/coverorgin.jpg?v=7729151a3a9fbf79a57d94d9a5a14b02&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82578/coverorgin.jpg?v=370a23aab51c3e3c36c2a807439a3ac3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/61215/coverorgin.jpg?v=7a469372e47d08e4f91137827cb9c7e7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/107120/coverorgin.jpg?v=1bb13022f0e012709ddc4b743678bd5e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102819/coverorgin.jpg?v=a617482dc12f331777919667aac45637&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86402/coverorgin.jpg?v=6661f8e2547013071cc49bc67b4c03d9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83976/coverorgin.jpg?v=153275f3cee12f72eb4da1592869a717&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83812/coverorgin.jpg?v=3bad48b4de11627c80c2d280b4a03f3e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81431/coverorgin.jpg?v=da558b107ba862f2e0fddc5043fed830&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106756/coverorgin.jpg?v=2993ae90a66b7c82c22fce8075ae3fb4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106734/coverorgin.jpg?v=c7ef0ae7a01b8941d249a96e5d9ca057&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/109835/coverorgin.jpg?v=b38472847e453f71545b2c32809d59f2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110351/coverorgin.jpg?v=85f9d5eead0e33b7f6ce2040765a8972&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/107857/coverorgin.jpg?v=9a76200e0950002b43533d024a54a8ef&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110543/coverorgin.jpg?v=ab7208b3df86eff70fb7110559887de0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100248/coverorgin.jpg?v=b1dec4753a5c9ea677f050c0b517bc01&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/109994/coverorgin.jpg?v=6df60f632de2c9f91576883d95eb1bbe&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104703/coverorgin.jpg?v=8043da784c3a05bbc8de63cf9d0b415f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104694/coverorgin.jpg?v=fba18a636a565aead7b3c1a8f143979b&imageMogr2/format/webp)